ESSAY: On Wiann Mulder, and respecting yourself

I didn’t want Wiann Mulder to break Lara’s 400-run record against Zimbabwe. So, why am I annoyed with his decision to declare on 367 not out?

God, AI can be so great sometimes. No, I’m not talking to you Brian.

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“I think Brian Lara keeping that record is exactly the way it should be.”

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Unsurprisingly, Wiann Mulder’s declaration on 367* has caused the Internet to spiral into debate. Despite wanting Mulder out before 400 because I like Brian Lara more, I’m pretty firmly in the anti-declaration camp. “Respect” is a stupid reason to give up a shot at one of the most impressive records in the game.

However, someone I look up to (and someone I thought had similar values to me) said that fans need to stop being upset because it doesn’t matter. The declaration wasn’t a “life or death” issue. So, why give a shit?

It’s a fair question. Why should we care? For whatever reason, Mulder thought it was best to declare. Maybe he was nervous South Africa couldn’t get 20 Zimbabwe wickets in two and a bit days. Maybe he didn’t want to look selfish in his first game as captain. Maybe he looks up to Lara so much that he didn’t want a different name on the record.

[Which brings up an interesting counter factual – would he have declared if it was a teammate on 367*? How do you tell your charges that Lara’s 20-year-old record is more important than their career-changing innings?]

Anyway, South Africa finally broke their title duck last month in the WTC. One of the biggest stories from the final was the one-legged Temba Bavuma doggedly refusing to get out to the Australian bowling cartel. His resilience – in the match, in his career, in his life – was emblematic of the new-look, battle-hardened Proteas. Never lie down, never give up, never say die.

Bavuma epitomised that sporting ideal that we all aspire to – blood, sweat, and tears to push through that dark tunnel of life to find that occasional, improbable success that makes everything worth it.

Meanwhile, Mulder thinks he doesn’t deserve to break a 20-year-old record. To repeat; Mulder doesn’t doubt his talent. He believes he might find himself in the high 300s again.

He doesn’t think he deserves to break Lara’s record.

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“Let the legends keep the really big scores.”

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Life can be tough. Despite the spread of the Internet and social media, humans are lonelier than ever. Despite material improvements in the average person’s life, income inequality gaps are growing across the world. Retirement ages are going up, happiness indexes are going down.

Any good therapist will give you a simple piece of advice; share your problems. Lean on your support system. Talk about things that you’re most embarrassed about. Tell people if you’re scared. Tell people if you feel like a failure.

But, it can be daunting.

Instead, we squirrel ourselves away. Watch another Instagram reel, another TikTok video, another YouTube short. Keep your head down, do what’s necessary, and ignore the impending burn out. If it starts overwhelming you, just turn on a screen. Watch the latest show, and let your brain turn off until you’re ready to get back to the grind. Life will get better eventually, if only you keep your head down. Don’t dream too big, and you won’t hate yourself for letting those dreams drift into an impossible future.

And then you see Temba Bavuma lift up on that injured leg to hook Mitch Starc to the boundary, and the fog dissipates. What you’re doing doesn’t matter. The impossible deadline, the bills piling up, the existential dread. None of it matters anymore.

The 5’4 Bavuma can barely put weight on his strained hamstring, but he’s standing taller than the Australian giants around him. Cummins, Hazlewood and Starc are the bowling cartel. Bavuma doesn’t care. And, somehow, it makes me not care anymore either.

Humans are dumb. For all our civilisation and progress and bio-hacking, we still default to a simple evolutionary trait – pattern recognition. When your days start bleeding together, it feels like your days will always bleed together. I couldn’t change my life today, so why would I be able to change it tomorrow?

And then Bavuma beats the odds to lead South Africa to a title. An actual fucking ICC championship. South Africa. Maybe change is possible. Maybe things can be different. Maybe you shouldn’t let the everyday bullshit get in the way. Keep an eye on the future, keep your head down, and believe in the process. Recognise that there is a new pattern and path to follow.

That you might have a new pattern and path to follow.

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“For someone of that stature to keep that record is pretty special. I think if I get the chance again, I'd probably do the same thing.”

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Athletes aren’t role models, and they shouldn’t be held up as such. They’re just lucky enough to live in a time that values their genetic gifts. Until a century ago, they would’ve been cannon fodder with their names forgotten to history like the rest of us.

However, modern athletes have the burden of being the face of the sports and teams we love. We’ve got no say in how our sides perform, and so we rely on these eleven strangers to validate our emotional investment. My day, my week, my self worth are based on whether you can hit that ball enough times to make up for the number of times the ball hits your wicket.

But, that’s not true either. Because, it’s not just about the result. It’s about how you achieve that result. It’s why there’s still a debate about the Mankad. It feels like the wrong way to lose, and it’s a less satisfying way to win. The payoff is bigger when your bowler sends their batter’s stumps cartwheeling with a yorker instead.

Because it’s not just about the result. It’s about how you achieve the result. The effort you put in. It’s why a determined loss is more endearing than a comfortable win. You want to see those eleven cricketers understand that the game is more than just a game.

I want to see the blood, tears and sweat. I want to see them fight until they can’t fight anymore, and then fight a little bit more anyway. Never lie down, never give up, never say die. Push through because it’s not just your win. It’s our win. It gives me a way out of the mundanity of my life. It gives me hope that no ambition is impossible, as long as you just. keep. going.

What I don’t want is someone telling me that it’s best not to try because I don’t deserve to succeed.

So, yeah. Fuck you, Mulder.

If you find yourself in sight of Lara’s record again, you better go for it. Partially, because I want to feel like I deserve it.

But mostly, because you definitely deserve it.